Chronicle of Ages (38 page)

KILA

GWYNEDD

W
ith his feet comfortably crossed upon the rim of the control panel, Rhun reclined in the seat behind the surveillance desk. His team had been on a routine scouting mission appraising a virgin planet in the outer reaches of the tri-sun system known only as ‘cluster double one seven', and Rhun had been monitoring the team's movements. But with their survey completed, his crew were on their way back to base. Hence Rhun found himself alone and at leisure as he seldom was during these deep space explorations.

It was his turn to babysit, which meant he alone stayed at base to guard their vessel against raiders and pirates. Their deep-space transport, the
Naria
, was equipped with a wormhole stabiliser for the purpose of travelling the great distances between star systems.
Naria literally meant ‘fly far away into space'. Subsequently, it amazed Rhun how far from civilisation some outlaws had managed to stray without access to the same technology. The scum of the allied systems sought refuge in the deep, dark recesses of space and the Chosen had learnt that it paid to take precautions in guarding against scavengers, no matter where one was placed in the cosmos.

Off in the distance, out through the front shield window, the brilliant red, yellow and blue stars that formed the nucleus of this system held Rhun's attention as his thoughts ventured forth to the other side of the galaxy, to the planet of his birth, Gaia.

His son's request to know more about Rhun's rise to High King of Briton had got him thinking about Gwynedd for the first time in a long while. The period in question had not exactly been the high point of Rhun's life, although it had been the highlight of his military career. Personally, he much preferred to dwell on the misspent days of his youth, running wild with the sons and daughters of the Twelve Masters of the Goddess.

Raised by legendary folk in a world of honour and miracles, Rhun's teenage years with the overzealous bunch of would-be kings and warriors were amongst the fondest memories he had. Friendship and loyalty had been more sacred than life then. Thoughts and laughter had flowed freely between him and those he'd considered his brothers. The four sons of King Brockwell, Bryce, Blain, Owen and Cai, along with Gawain and Gareth, had been Rhun's most trusted circle of friends during his early life. The latter two lads
were sons of the High King's officials, who grew up and were educated with Rhun on the Isle of Mon Angelsey. At this time, Gwynedd and all of Briton prospered under the rulership of his father, Maelgwn. Rhun had never seriously conceived of assuming the throne and didn't expect to this side of his fiftieth birthday, at the very least. His father was wise, and a warrior to be avoided. Maelgwn enjoyed the best of health thanks to a perpetual state of marital bliss. There were no wars to speak of, nor the likelihood of any erupting. The year before Rhun was born, the Goddess and her Masters had pacified the Saxon threat at the battle Arwystli, so the chances of the High King perishing in a war had also seemed highly unlikely. For the would-be kings of Powys, the situation was much the same, as their father, Calin Brockwell, was the ultimate warrior. After years of tutelage under Rhun's mother, the great Tory Alexander, a three Dan (black belt) in Tae-kwon-do, Brockwell's fighting skills had surpassed even hers. There wasn't a soldier alive who didn't admire King Brockwell and aspire to match his prowess in battle.

Festival time was always greatly anticipated by Rhun in his teenage years and thus when he thought of this time it was always the great gatherings of the year that sprang to mind. The sacred feast days of his people meant that four times a year he and his friends were guaranteed a get-together, and with their parents all otherwise detained, the young nobles got to run riot for a week. So many nights of wonder and discovery flitted through Rhun's mind, bringing a smile to his face and a warm, glowing feeling to his chest.

‘Brothers forever.'
His mind settled on one night in particular, when he and the lads had sworn this oath in blood.

A laugh escaped Rhun's lips as he recalled Queen Katren's hysterical reaction upon discovering Blain, Gawain, Bryce, Gareth, Owen and himself, each with a bloody slice through their right hand. As Bryce had been sixteen and the eldest, he'd copped most of the blame for the bloodbath even though it had been Rhun and Blain's idea. Owen had only been six at the time, but, adamant that he was brave enough to participate in the ritual, he'd cut his own hand. In retrospect, it had been a stupid thing to do, but their friendship was more important than life — this had been their way of proving that.

‘How blissfully naive were we,' Rhun mumbled, transfixed by the fleeting recollections of the strife that lay in wait for their coming to power.

Rhun had assumed the throne of Gwynedd aged twenty-one. Blain had been inaugurated and crowned the King of Powys at the same time at only eighteen years of age. For ten years the allied kingdoms were under the guidance of Vortipor, the Protector of Dyfed — Rhun's father-in-law. Vortipor had been unanimously voted into the position by the heads of the allied kingdoms in the wake of Maelgwn's illness and subsequent departure to the Otherworld. But when Vortipor was unexpectedly taken from them, the right candidate to fill the position of High King had not been so well defined. Twenty years to the day after taking their blood oath, Gwynedd and Powys were at war.

The control panel alerted Rhun to a docking craft. His team had returned from their last surveillance detail for this tour. Hence, it was time to make their way back to Kila and their home town's fiftieth anniversary celebrations.

‘I do love a good festival,' Rhun announced with cheer, as he made a move to check all went well with his people.

 

Most of the six-man crew were going into stasis for the flight home. They were anxious to get there and this made the time pass instantaneously. Rhun and his eldest son, Cadwell, were the only two occupants still up and about.

‘I though you'd flake, after all that food you consumed,' Rhun commented as Cadwell entered the flight deck.

‘Nah.' Cadwell began bounding around practising kicks and strikes. ‘I thought I might do a work-out first.'

Rhun rolled his eyes. ‘I can't wait for you to get laid … you're driving me nuts!'

‘This isn't about sex!' Cadwell scoffed, continuing to bounce up and down, inhaling deep satisfying breaths. ‘It's about feeling good about yourself, honouring your body, loving the self —'

‘Well, we all know you're the undisputed master of that,' Rhun interjected.

‘Why don't you join me?' Cadwell beckoned him to come and fight although Rhun was viewing the instrument panels, not paying Cadwell the slightest attention. ‘I could use a sparring partner.'

Rhun just shook his head, showing nil enthusiasm.

‘Not in the mood to be beat up, hey?' Cadwell jeered, but when his father had no witty retort for him, he realised something was amiss. ‘Why so gloomy, pops?'

Rhun sat back in his chair and rolled his head around to view Cadwell. ‘Don't call me that … or daddo, pappy, or any of the other stupid variations that Floyd taught you.'

‘You're avoiding the issue,' Cadwell chanted, but realising he was annoying his father, decided to change his tack. ‘No seriously, father,' he said in a mocking, yet endearing fashion, ‘what's up?'

Rhun cocked his head, debating whether or not he wished to discuss the matter. ‘Asher noticed that Noah's chronicles are missing the account of my rise to High King of Briton.'

‘O-oh …' Cadwell struggled to suppress his smile so he could appear to sympathise with his father's predicament.

‘There is nothing funny about this!' Rhun stood, aggravated, feeling he should have known better than to confide in Cadwell, to whom everything was a joke.

‘I'm sorry … but you're always encouraging everyone else to confront and release past fears. The way you have been avoiding the issue of Asher makes you the biggest hypocrite I know.'

‘I'm not avoiding the issue!' Rhun defended. ‘I just don't want the past interfering with our present relationship.'

Cadwell really felt the urge to laugh at this point. ‘It already does interfere with your present relationship!
Isn't Asher why you chose a vocation in deep-space exploration, so that the issue wasn't staring you in the face every day?'

Rhun was affronted by his son's accusation and his first reaction was to respond with a flat denial; yet, another moment's thought changed his resolve. ‘I truly hope not.'

His father appeared so troubled that Cadwell thought he'd best try to be a little subtler. ‘Asher's not a boy any more … he's noticed that the older he gets, the less he sees of you. He wants to know why. He needs to know what you are feeling. He will find out sooner or later — better that the tale comes from you as there was no one more intimately involved.'

Rhun was deeply bewildered now. He hated to think that Cadwell could tell him anything about spiritual maturity. What's more, he really didn't want to go back there, not even in his mind. The position of High King had caused Rhun so much grief that he'd never taken any joy in holding the high office, and yet he'd been as dedicated to his duty as his two predecessors. Rhun closed his eyes, daring to allow his thoughts to drift back to his adult life in the Dark Ages — his dread and loathing of that era hadn't waned in intensity for all the time and distance he'd put between that place and this.

‘I can help you,' Cadwell suggested, watching the emotional conflict play across his father's face. ‘I was there, after all.'

As Rhun was startled back to the present, his eyes opened and he smiled, happy to be there. ‘You weren't
more than ten … you don't know the half of what went down, Cadwell.'

‘But I'd like to,' he encouraged. ‘I'd like to know things like how much you remember of your elemental initiation with Gwyn ap Nudd?'

Rhun was shocked. ‘How did you know about that?'

Cadwell gave him a presumptuous look. ‘You're not the only one who has been High King of Briton you know … I went through the Night Hunter's initiation twice. Once in my lifetime as Vortipor and then again when I was elected High King.'

‘That makes sense, now that I think about it.' Rhun arched an eyebrow in curiosity. ‘How did you feel about actually knowing one of your own incarnations?'

Cadwell shrugged. ‘At the time, I didn't know I did. Taliesin only enlightened me to the fact many years after Vortipor's death.'

Rhun raised his eyebrows, thinking this typical of the Merlin's way.

‘And you're avoiding the issue again.' Cadwell leapt back to the subject. ‘Are you going to do this or not? It's not like we don't have the time now, is it? I'll help you through it.' Cadwell stood to guide his father to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area.

Rhun refused to be led, however. Having Cadwell to comfort him through the most horrendous time of his life didn't seem the perfect arrangement. ‘Surely you're not serious.'

‘Yes, I am!' Cadwell emphasised, managing not to smile this time. ‘We can start with this moment just
passed, which could be a good background scene to lead into —'

‘Hold on!' Rhun pulled away. ‘You're not going to start directing my thoughts. This is my story.'

‘I respect that totally.' Cadwell stepped away, raising his hands in truce. ‘If you don't want my help —'

‘I think I can handle it,' Rhun assured him, retrieving the orb and making for the lounge with it.

‘Well, I'll be here if you need me.' Cadwell began practising his fighting skills once again. ‘You might be amazed at the things I remember …' he called out a final offer.

‘Cadwallon is the one I need help from,' Rhun called back. ‘See if you can get a visual link-up happening if you want to do something useful.'

‘But Cadwallon wasn't there!' Cadwell protested, just for the hell of it.

‘He was, in a past life,' Rhun corrected, ‘so just do as I ask, will you?'

Cadwell gave a chuckle, tickled pink that he'd talked his father into finally purging himself of the period in question. ‘Whatever you say, you're the captain.'